


The old Sakuma house

by Bexchu



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Ghosts, Mao/Ritsu in the bg, Other, The sakumas live/lived in a murder house and if you want an explanation then go to my blog, You buy a haunted house
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 15:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21255329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexchu/pseuds/Bexchu
Summary: You buy a cheap piece of property in the middle of Tokyo that seems to have absolutely nothing wrong with it. Are you going to question the scratching noises you hear when you visit or the shadows that move in the corner of your eye? In this economy? Absolutely not. Instead you go have a soothing cup of tea with old man Mao who totally knew he was selling you a haunted house.





	The old Sakuma house

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so if you're not familiar with my concept of the Sakuma murder house please pop over to swordboys-and-glampires.tumblr.com where I have a few posts about it or just ask me directly because I love talking about this idea. Happy Halloween everyone!

“Alright, what’s wrong with it?”, your hand smoothed over the stained oak bannister, appreciating the intricate detailing that must have been painstakingly hand carved. Each step you took echoed through the open hall way and reception area but you didn’t mind how eerily quiet this place was. 6 bedrooms, fully furnished from top to bottom with antiques and unique items from an array of times and places, a front and back garden with iron wrought fencing encircling the property, a series of small ponds and beautiful, tall, ancient trees; a gothic Victorian home in the middle of Tokyo for a quarter of the price of even the most decrepit properties you’d seen. Something had to be wrong. Maybe it needed stripping back to it’s bones and restoring but from the looks of it it was nothing more than in need of a good dusting, not even a lick of paint to the exterior. You’d seen evaluations of the electrics, plumbing, floors, roof and still nothing you could find wrong with it; it was like it had only just been built, which you knew couldn’t be true because the estate agent had told you it dated back to the 1850’s. A travellers labour of love with the intent that the home be kept in his family for the rest of forever but that only lasted so long. You’d heard rumours about the Sakumas but on your first meeting Mr Isara hadn’t wished to go into a lot of detail when you asked; the death of a loved one weighed hard on him and selling this house was a final task he carried out for them. Perhaps it was grief that made him so eager to part with this house he’d sell it for so little? Still it had been up on the market for nearly a year and only the curious had come to view it but now, even knowing some of the whispers about this place, you were more than just curious. This would be your new home.

Signing away your money was easy enough, it took pressure off of you to find the highest paying job you could to pay for some crappy two bed apartment, in fact you had plenty left over for restorations, though not many were needed, and to keep yourself afloat for up to a year. All you had to do was relax , knowing you’d found your own patch of paradise in a city that could feel so lonely. Mr Isara, who insisted it was alright to address him as Mao, offered his best advices over a pot or two of tea; telling you of the fascinating history he knew, odd phrases littered throughout about how nothing would ever hurt you, before getting out his albums. There were pictures of him when he was just a child right in front of the house, alongside a chubby cheeked boy with an adorable bowl cut who was clinging to another child maybe only a year older than the other two, something unsettling about the shadows behind him.

Mao gently stroked over the cherub like boy, a pained smile prompting you to ask if he wanted to stop for now only for him to shake his head. “Ritsu won’t ever leave me, I don’t think he ever considered doing such a thing. Thank you for listening to an old man ramble.”

“You knew each other so young… what about the other?”

Another wave of sadness filled the room, you couldn’t say where it came from but it permeated your soul, dripping tears from your own eyes as Mao told you about the wonderful young man who had died a very tragic, very early death and left a void in the life of all that knew him.

“As long as I’ve lived I’ve never known someone who loved others so unashamedly and truly as Rei did. I hope he finds his peace.”

You reached over to take his hand, a bold move but from the moment you met Isara Mao you felt a deep connection, like this pain was something he was supposed to share with you.

“We never had children, he was too scared, but I hope the Sakuma house treats you well, please take care of it.”

With the promise you could return whenever you wanted and asking permission to drop by every now and then you were handed the keys to the house. Strangely, you noticed the way they were ice cold, but it was another thing you were more than willing to ignore for the deal of a lifetime. Mao only lived around the corner so you decided to take a stroll through the neighbourhood, get a feel for it and maybe take another tour around your new home now that the sun was setting.

Every other house you passed was as traditional as you had ever seen; wooden, sliding doors, outside corridors and a lot of them seemingly walled around- especially the one’s beside the Sakuma house that was completely sealed away from the rest of the street; perhaps when it was built others found it to be in bad taste?

Fiddling with the set of keys you began trying to figure out which one was for the black iron gate and once again you became engrossed with the intricate detailing that went into every feature of this place; thorned roses crafted individually to wrap around the bars, centring towards the lock and the key itself having a similar rose tipped motif. Sakuma Arata had poured his heart and soul into every last crevice of his creation, there wasn’t another home like this in the world and as you opened the gate another promise was made from yourself to the family that had once lived here; you would love this home as thoroughly as they did, silently thanking them for keeping it so wonderfully that you were given this chance to care for it.

The gardens needed work, plant beds were overgrown with weeds and the roots of the trees had invaded the cobbled pathways leading to a small pavilion on the other side of a short wooden bridge. Gorgeous but overgrown blooms of wisteria hung like violet curtains that parted to reveal more flowering trees and willows draped over the ponds. Compared to the house itself this was the area that needed the most attention and you noticed walking past a door covered in knotweed and made a mental note to find where it led to check it hadn’t already made it’s way into the basement. Taking one step onto the bridge you felt a sudden, imperative need to stay where you were; light outlining a window on the second floor, a human shaped shadow in the middle. Almost as though someone had turned on the light just to glare at you.

You focused ahead, the centre of the pavilion seemed to hold a small shrine, with a necklace laid at the foot. The shadow moved and you felt cold, not knowing what to do other than pay your respects, offering a bow to what you assumed was a memorial for the boy Mao had told you about.

And just like that the light flicked off, pressure thankfully alleviated. Rumours were just rumours and those funny things Mao had said were nothing more than superstition… but if they weren’t then you had to trust his words; nothing in the house would ever hurt you and when you turned you felt the air leave your lungs.

A pure white hand pressed against the window connected to a dark figure, engrossed in shadows still stood watching your every move, you could tell by the subtle movement of the head turning as you made your way back to the path, but while a spike of fear fuelled adrenaline coursed through your veins you felt an understanding; she was longing for something, though she watched you her hand stayed in place, reaching towards the pavilion and you had looked like a trespasser. This was enough for the night you’d return the next day, maybe do some shopping to restock the items the small shrine was likely to be lacking. Not taking your eyes from the figure your breath shook through your chest and repeating to yourself that she wouldn’t hurt you, she wouldn’t hurt you. Now you were both out of each others line of sight you rushed to the gate, ready to lock it and go enjoy a night out in the city before making sure everything was in order to be moved in by the end of the week. This was terrifying but thrilling all in the same. What had you bought into?


End file.
